Sometimes, there is an obscured disconnect between what we imagine, and what we feel. And sometimes what we feel, is a ponderous part of the illusion — of things we'd love to be real... And so we live, alternating our improvised happiness at will, between the things known, the things we feel, and those we'd love to be real...
How it happened.
If anyone had bothered, or rather if it was still possible to announce what had happened that morning at first light, it would be that in the conservative farming town just a stone's throw outside town, God looked away. It seemed that even the printing press at the local newspaper had been gathering dust for week already - before it all came together in an unholy fashion.
Up to fifteen minutes before, the old world was still there, somewhat, on the surface. A familiar normal place both inside and outside of town. Then, whoever was in charge of life, flipped the switch...
What was at the outset during sunrise just a dot on the horizon; a spec on the lens of the glowing eastern sky, started to expanded and grew with intense purpose. Soon enough smaller dots from everywhere joined and the shadow grew into a dense mesh that hungrily ate away at the handful of rays of light that attempted claiming a new day; bravely daring over the jagged top of the mountain. Suddenly the dark mass let go and the rays were back - as the apparition moved again; out of sight. This time from the view of the old farmhouse, had anyone noticed, the new arrivals remained lower just under the very edge of the top of the mountain's bourne while remaining seemingly deliberately undetected from the eagerly rushing morning light and the farmstead. It wasn't the first time and the maneuver was already perfected - each time, just barely before the new days in the recent past emerged from the blackness. But that morning it was different, and the children inside at least one farm house would've no doubt agreed that it was the end of days when prayers were answered.
Outside, high above a nearby farm where death already struck, the dark swinging mass now attempted moving at breakneck-speed and from a further distance appeared as a swirling magic carpet meandering as it gravitated towards the ground. Woven tight, not a single one dared moving out of formation. Then, the hungry persistent screams started; distorted occasionally only by the sound of wind rushing past them and the mad flapping that had started after the last of them followed - swooping down from the mountain. There were no accidents and all kept course just as their creator fashioned them; perfect for this environment. All four-thousand strong darting beaks were searching for local life in flight, and finally found it. As usual since the start of the experiment, none were in need for water, and the creatures were impervious to the freeze that had come to clamp down the farming district just south-east from town. All boasted long jet-black necks that seem to have tapered almost elegantly from their muscled velvety blue wings that reflected emerald-green in the morning light. Folding back their wings a fraction after they'd ascended high above their target, they stared down indifferently as they awaited their instructions. Inside a nearby large panel; that slowed down and pulled off to the shoulder of the dirt farm road - obscured by a cloud of fine dust - the countdown started and the switch was flipped once more.